


Hidden Charm

by lordvoldemortsnipple



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Politics, M/M, Mutual Pining, Secrets, Undercover, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24703864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordvoldemortsnipple/pseuds/lordvoldemortsnipple
Summary: “Secrets? Who me? No,” Merlin is quick to say, “this is very hypothetical. And in this hypothetical case, the secret — which I really don’t have — isn’t just about me. A whole civilization depends on it. Would you, in this fake scenario, hate me forever? Hypothetically speaking”“I suppose I wouldn’t really blame you, then,” Gwen answers. She glances over her shoulder, to where Merlin’s eyes keep being pulled, and she’s smiling as she looks back at Merlin. “Neither would Arthur.”
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 33
Kudos: 184





	Hidden Charm

There’s a slight possibility that Merlin might not be feeling very well. There’s an energy building up in his chest, his gestures a little wilder, the glass he had been holding has cracked a bit, and he’s not looking forward to explaining how. The evidence had been left on a table and he’s across the room now, hands dangerously empty. He turns to the buffet table, looking over the entrees and picking up a cheese leaf thing that he hasn’t tried yet, and stuffs his mouth with it. It tastes fresh, green and heavy with the cheese and he doesn’t know what to make of it.

He looks around the room for his friend, who disappeared to get a drink a while ago, but he can’t find Gwen among the crowd of people dressed incredibly finer than he is. High class people, important people, chatting in groups all over the room, anticipation making their voices rise, the sound echoing on the high ceiling. Merlin’s eyes keep deviating from their purpose, and dragged to the television playing on a wall, sound almost mute, and then to the black landline phone, old fashioned, with a rotary dial like the kind his mother used to have. It sits quietly on a table on its own, and Merlin’s attention is pulled again and again to a figure close by it.

Arthur is talking to his family, his father and his sister, and he must be explaining something, because Merlin recognises his stance, the firm movement of his hands, the brightness of his eyes. His face is lit with enthusiasm, hope, a smile growing on his face as he speaks, and Merlin feels hooked in, a pull on his feet to take him closer, to listen in, to gaze upon him and stand by his side. Arthur would look back at him, would drag him in one way or another, with a hand on his shoulder and a fierce belief that what they do is right. Merlin only stops himself because he’s not in total control of himself and he holds a healthy amount of fear for Arthur’s family.

He’ll keep his distance for now, and maybe later on he’ll catch a moment where Arthur isn’t surrounded by such scary company so they could talk. He’d like to have that chance, before it all comes to an end.

“Merlin!” Gwen calls him, as she moves closer, her sunny yellow dress visible at last, along with her smiling face, dimples pulled into it. She blocks his view from Arthur, and Merlin makes himself smile a bit back at her. “Isn’t this so exciting? Arthur’s really going to win!”

“We don’t know that yet,” Merlin replies, shrugging, “I’m sure they’ll realize he’s a bit of a prat, and change their mind.”

“Merlin!” Gwen laughs a little, holding up her drink closer to her face, as if to hide it.

“So he’s a royal prat,” Merlin concedes, “and that’s something they’re all familiar with.”

Gwen shakes her head slightly, clearly amused. “We both know you want him to get this.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

And he isn’t. He feels guilty and selfish about it, because Arthur deserves this, Arthur will be great at the job, Arthur wants to do so good, Arthur, Arthur, Arthur. But one of two things will happen, depending on the outcome of the phone call they’re all waiting for: either Merlin will leave, or Arthur will wish he did.

“Imagine I had this huge secret,” Merlin blurts out, as Gwen sips on her sparkly drink, “a life changing secret. The kind you can’t even possibly imagine to be real. But I can’t tell anyone about it. Would you, in this fake scenario, hate me forever? Hypothetically speaking.”

Gwen lowers her glass, her eyebrows coming down a bit as she gives Merlin a slightly judgemental look, one part fond because she’s used to his odd questions. “Do you have a big secret, Merlin? You know you can tell me anything.”

“No secret! Who me? No,” Merlin is quick to add, “this is very hypothetical. And in this hypothetical case, the secret — which I really don’t have — isn’t just about me. A whole civilization depends on it,” he almost hits a person in the face as his arm gestures wide in a circle. Instead his hand brushes awkwardly at the man’s chest, and he’s forced to step closer to the table, recoiling his arm. “Sorry!” 

The man frowns at him, before leaving without a word, and Merlin sighs, knowing he’ll hear later from Arthur how someone complained to him about his principle private secretary, or as Arthur likes to put it, his manservant. 

“I suppose I wouldn’t really blame you, then,” Gwen answers. She glances over her shoulder, to where Merlin’s eyes keep being pulled into it, and she’s smiling as she looks back at Merlin. “Neither would Arthur.”

“Who cares what Arthur thinks? I certainly don’t,” Merlin puffs out, waving off a hand, even as Gwen looks at him with amusement, “No need to bring him up.”

“Merlin,” Gwen says, her voice warmed with mirth, “we both know Arthur....” she pauses, glancing around quickly, the strands of hair not pulled in in a bun swinging lightly against her temples, “he cares a lot about you,” she continues, her tone lower so they’re not overheard. “Whatever secret you’ve got, it won’t change that.”

Merlin nods a little vaguely, eyes going over her shoulder to a certain blond. “Hypothetically,” he reminds her.

Gwen smiles at him again. “Sure.”

Merlin sighs a bit, leaning closer to his friend as she finishes her drink, putting it down on the table. His hands fidget with the need to hold something, and he pats the breast pocket of his suit to make sure everything is in place. His most prized possession, his secret.

“We’re working under the assumption that Arthur cares for me at all,” Merlin adds.

Gwen nudges him very lightly, mouth pressed closed to hold back a smile. “Merlin, you know better than that.”

“Well—”

The room hushes quiet at the same time, the silent sudden, and contrasting loudly to the ring of the telephone. All eyes turn to Arthur, who walks towards it, his stance straight, his step precise, with barely any hesitation before his hand closes on the handle of the phone, bringing it to his face. “Arthur Pendragon speaking.”

Merlin moves a bit to the side to see him better, tension rising in the room as they wait. Gwen grabs a hold of his wrist, gripping it tightly, but Merlin can’t look away from Arthur. This is it, this is for what they’ve all been working towards. This will settle Merlin’s fate. This was fated. 

“It’s an honour, your Highness,” Arthur says, “I thank you for this opportunity.”

A moment later he puts down the phone, and looks up at the room, eyes wide and incredulous, brighter as they sweep through the crowd, through the people who gathered to cheer on him. “I got it,” he says, his shoulders dropping with relief, a grin growing quickly on his face, lit with happiness and resolution and a future. He’s beautiful.

There’s a moment, Arthur still turning his head, where his eyes almost meet Merlin’s. Then the crowd gets in closer to him, people clapping and congratulating him, and Merlin can’t see him over them anymore.

“He did it, Merlin!” Gwen lets out excitedly, grabbing his arms by the elbows, pulling him closer.

Merlin grabs her arms back, smiling faintly. “He did it,” he repeats, not quite believing it. His arms wrap themselves around Gwen as she pulls him into a quick hug, her cheek pressing against his chest, and he can feel her smile against it. He’s really glad for Arthur, he is, but there’s a tightness growing on his throat.

It’s only around half an hour later that he catches sight of Arthur, making his way out of the room. Merlin hesitates for a moment, because either Arthur’s going to the toilet or wants to be on his own for a bit, but Merlin won’t have a lot of chances to catch him on his own again tonight, and on the following morning everything will be different. So he squeezes Gwen’s arm and leaves her side, going towards the big oaken doors through which Arthur had left.

Arthur turns his head to look at Merlin when he opens the door, and doesn’t look away. Merlin closes the door after him quietly, muffling the sounds from the party behind it. It’s darker here in the hallway, the light from the streetlamps outside pouring in through the large windows, bouncing lightly on Arthur’s cheekbones, on his hair. On his eyes, which are still on Merlin.

Merlin walks towards him, stopping by his side, and turns so he too is leaning back against the wall, body turned towards the window. His eyes don’t leave Arthur’s.

“I was rather hoping to be alone for a moment, you know,” Arthur says.

“Yeah, figured as much,” Merlin nods, “want me to go?”

Arthur shakes his head, and slowly goes back to looking out through the window, his arms crossed over his chest. Merlin waits a moment, keeping his hands clasped together behind his back so he doesn’t distract Arthur, and he lets him have his peace for a moment before he can’t take the silence anymore. Any moment someone is going to look for one of them.

“I really didn’t see this coming,” he says, “In fact, I was rather hoping the Queen would have more taste than to handpick you.”

Arthur lets out a laugh, uncrossing his arms, his posture softening a bit as he turns to look at Merlin again. “So you’ve said from the start.”

“I did! Dunno why no one listened.”

“And yet,” Arthur turns properly, giving a small step so he faces Merlin, “I don’t think anyone had as much faith in me as you did.”

“That says very little on the faith you inspire,” Merlin says, turning to him as well, his feet moving carefully so they’re facing each other, close, but not too close. Arthur’s gaze on him is fond, softened by the good news, “You’ll do great,” Merlin says, “You’re meant for it. I mean, it’s time you stop lazing around and actually work, but you’ll manage.”

“You too,” Arthur replies, “you’re coming with me.”

Merlin tilts his head a little to the side. “Does that mean you’ll finally give me a raise?”

Arthur laughs, head thrown back, his throat arched, Adam's apple visible and right there in front of him. “You are already lucky enough I want you to move departments with me,  _ Mer _ lin, don’t push it.”

“I don’t know, sir,” Merlin gives him a shrug, “maybe the new boss would get me a raise.”

“Or be less tolerant than I am and fire you for your incompetence.”

“That’s a good point,” Merlin says, “I guess I’ll have to stick with you, then.”

“Merlin,” Arthur says, his tone a little more serious, opening his arms slightly, a hand coming up to his arm.

Merlin looks at him in surprise, but moves in quickly, hardly believing Arthur actually wants to hug. He assumes it’s due to the announcement, and gets an arm around Arthur, his fingers just brushing on his vest when Arthur pulls back.

“What are you doing?” he asks with a frown, a step back, his hands up in the air. His tone is a little tense.

“I thought you were going for a hug,” Merlin explains.

“No,” Arthur says slowly, shaking his head a little.

“No?” Merlin replies, and he’s frowning a bit now as his hands come down to his sides again. He could have gone for the hug, but he’s not about to push for it.

Arthur keeps his eyes on Merlin, lowering his own arms a bit, and then he sighs. His arms come up again, getting around Merlin’s back and pulling him in. “Not a word to anyone,” he warns, voice low and almost raspy against Merlin’s ear.

Merlin nods as Arthur gives his back a pat, and his own arms wrap lightly around Arthur, one hand resting gently on his shoulder. Arthur’s hand stills, a small shiver running through Merlin, starting at the point on his back where Arthur’s hand presses in, fingers spread wide, warm and firm between his shoulder blades. Merlin dares to rest his own hand with a little more presence, and Arthur’s other hand comes up a bit lower on his back. Merlin knows the hug has just gone already for too long for it to be okay, but he doesn’t pull back.

His hand moves from Arthur’s shoulder too far up, fingers grazing at the back of his neck, Arthur’s hair tingling at his skin, the other at the beginning of the inward curve of Arthur’s back, where he can feel his chest expanding as he breathes. Not that he needs that evidence, Arthur’s breath itself soft and warm against his neck, his nose pressing slightly on Merlin’s hair. This hug has gone far from appropriate, because congratulatory hugs aren’t meant to make anyone’s heart race, and Merlin can feel his own loud between his ears. 

And if Merlin tilted his head slightly, upwards and to the side, he could nuzzle into Arthur’s hair, he could feel Arthur’s mouth on his neck.

Before he can even think of doing it, Arthur starts to pull back, his cheek dragging on Merlin’s cheekbone, his hand stilling on Merlin’s back, keeping him close for one precious moment as their eyes lock, breaths coming up together, Merlin’s hand curling on Arthur’s shoulder. His eyes, just for a fraction of a second, shift down to Arthur’s lips, parted, pinkish and so close, before he looks at Arthur’s eyes again, which look dark and even more inviting. 

Then they’re out of each other’s hold, hands pulling away, each giving a small step back, breaking eye contact at last. Arthur’s hand comes up to his head, fingers running through his hair as he gathers himself, and Merlin crosses his arms, shoulders raised, and then uncrosses them again, letting his arms swing a little.

“Merlin,” Arthur says again, his tone serious, a little deep. His hand hovers close to Merlin, to close in the distance between them, and his eyes are brighter now. Just as inviting. “I should thank you, for your support, your hard work.”

“You’re welcome,” Merlin says, eyes moving quickly over Arthur’s face, resisting the need to step closer again, “Prime Minister.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was the prologue of my supposed next big merthur fic, as a harry potter au of an auror merlin working undercover to protect minister arthur, a la that muggle prime minister chapter in the 6th book, but, you know, fuck jk rowling  
> I have all 13 chapters planned out, almost 3 written, but now I have to go look through it all and rework it into a generic wizarding world and I honestly just don't have the time right now  
> so, for now have this! hope you enjoyed it, and fingers crossed I'll reopen this when I can <3


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